


Laser Tag

by Closeted_Bookworm



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Horror, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Gore, chase scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24718648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closeted_Bookworm/pseuds/Closeted_Bookworm
Summary: Wilford Warfstache is never one to pass up a good game. Why would it matter that it's more real for one than the other?
Kudos: 4





	Laser Tag

Mark runs as fast as he can, desperate to get away from the man that’s chasing him. He can hear the laughter echoing down the corridor, shrill and unhinged, and he puts on a burst of speed, skidding around the corner and lunging towards the door handle that’s the only way out of this corridor.

It’s locked.

His heart leaps into his throat as he rattles the knob, the haunting giggles behind him growing ever closer. He bangs on the unforgiving metal, screaming for someone to help him, to open the door, to blow it off its hinges, anything, but he knows no one is coming.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

He spins around and sees the man standing at the end of the hallway, toying idly with the gold-plated revolver he never seemed to put down, his violently fuchsia hair practically glowing in the fluorescent lights and a devilish smile on his face. Gulping, he draws his stun gun, pointing it shakily at the man slowly advancing towards him. In an instant, the man levels his gun and fires, and he drops the stun gun with a shriek of pain as his thumb falls to the floor with it. He looks up in shock as the man full-on guffaws, head thrown back and a terrifying glint in his eye. 

He crumples to the ground, clutching his bleeding hand and whimpering in fear as his pursuer straightens back up, his laughter dying in an instant. He’s like a temperamental storm cloud or a flash flood, you never know what’s coming next.

Suddenly he breaks into a sprint, and Mark screams as he barrels down the hallway, roaring like a bull and firing randomly into the walls. In just a few seconds, he’s covered the distance between them. Mark curls up into a tight ball, eyes blown wide, as the sound of heavy breathing and the scent of bubblegum and gunpowder fills his entire being. The gilded barrel of the revolver presses against his skull.

“You’re it.”

Mark shuts his eyes, knowing he’s about to die. 

Wilford Warfstache never loses.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to practice scaring myself :) My shoulders got all tense while writing this. How'd I do?


End file.
